


everything the sun touches

by saltwatergarden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Forbidden Forest, Lunch, M/M, Sassy Draco Malfoy, Suspicious Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwatergarden/pseuds/saltwatergarden
Summary: Harry stared, as Malfoy unfastened his cloak and elegantly draped it upon the grass, sitting down cross-legged on it, and taking his book bag off of his shoulder.Harry had the time to briefly wonder what on earth Malfoy was doing here, before Malfoy spoke.“Are you going to join me, Potter, or just stand there staring?”Harry very nearly fell backwards into another thorned bush. Sheepishly, he yanked at the Cloak, pulling it off and further messing up his hair as he did so.“How did you know I was there?”“You breathe as loud as a hippogriff,” Malfoy said, still not looking up at Harry. “And I don’t know of anyone else at Hogwarts with an Invisibility Cloak.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 175
Collections: Drarropoly '20: Founders Edition





	everything the sun touches

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> The Shrieking Shack  
> Theme: Gryffindor  
> Having a secret hideaway is great until someone else discovers it and it isn't so secret anymore.  
> "Malfoy is up to something."  
> O.W.L. Level:  
> Quote the chosen dialogue line in your story.  
> Minimum: 1290  
> Maximum: 2300  
> My WC: 2294

There is some comfort to be found in the fact that some things never changed.

Filch and Mrs Norris continued to patrol the halls at night in hopes of finding a student to punish; Hagrid would be raising some strange and likely horrific animal down by his hut; students would sneak off to the Astronomy Tower to snog after hours; and Ron would continue to have seconds at every meal.

It was comforting, to have this sense of familiarity, particularly when everything else felt wildly out of orbit.

Coming back to Hogwarts had been difficult, and Harry had taken a long time to readjust. He had been twitchy and anxious, flinching at every sound like an easily startled cat. He hadn’t been alone in that, it seemed many students—mainly the older ones—still remained in the state of mind of war, and being back in the castle where the battle had occurred did little to help that. The professors all did their best to help make everyone feel safe and welcome, and the castle itself bore few signs that any war had taken place, but Harry still _felt_ it. The stones might have been repaired, but walking the halls still reminded Harry what had happened here.

Fred died here. Lupin. Tonks. So many others.

He tried to think about something else. Tried to focus on his schoolwork, at much urging from Hermione. But it was hard, hard to convince himself that his marks in Herbology still mattered after everything they had been through the last year.

And yet, his mind still sought, desperately, for something to latch onto, something to devote its focus to besides devastating reminders of the war. For a while, he had become obsessed with Quidditch. Despite not being allowed to play on the teams this year, he had been going to every Quidditch practice, shouting out advice and strategies until finally Ginny had had enough and swooped down to tell him that she had never bossed him around when _he_ was Captain, thank you very much, and that unless he could keep his mouth shut, he was no longer welcome at their practices.

He had sheepishly backed off after that.

He then decided to visit Hagrid more often, and devote his free time to helping him with whatever monstrosity he was pouring his attention to this year. They turned out to be seapocks, strange and small aquatic creatures with vibrant green scales and alarmingly sharp teeth that Hagrid was keeping in large tubs near his cabin.

“Once they’re full-grown, they’ll go in the lake, see,” he had told Harry. “But fer now, they’re still babies and need ta grow.”

But there wasn’t much to be done with them either. Hagrid fed them twice a day, once when Harry was in class and once past midnight, so Harry couldn’t do much besides come and look at them, and the bigger they got, the less appealing they were. Still, he dutifully came down at least twice a week, typically on Wednesdays and Fridays, to check in on the seapocks and chat briefly with Hagrid.

If anything, it was helpful to have a routine. Hermione had recommended he stick to a relatively strict routine this year, especially after hearing about his pervasive nightmares and anxiety. He hadn’t expected it to help much, but he supposed he should’ve known better than to doubt Hermione. It seemed to calm him, having a set schedule and knowing what to expect from each day.

It was also a bit boring.

Initially, Harry had been overwhelmingly welcoming of boring, convinced that he had had enough excitement to last him a lifetime. But he was distinctly lacking a sense of adventure that he found he actually craved. Perhaps it was that he was simply used to it, or perhaps it was his Gryffindor spirit, but Harry found himself craving something _fun_.

On one early Saturday afternoon, after having fallen asleep the night before on his Potions essay, he decided to head down to Hagrid’s, to make up for missing the day before. It wasn’t like Hagrid really needed his help, but he had gotten used to Harry stopping by, and besides, it was something to do.

Walking down towards Hagrid’s hut, Harry cast his face upwards, enjoying the sweep of the breeze—a slight chill, just enough to feel it, but not an uncomfortable cold.

The trees rustled gently in the wind, a chorus of fluttering leaves that drew Harry’s eyes towards the army of trunks hiding the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.

He narrowed his eyes.

Was that—it couldn’t be—it _was_ —someone was walking directly towards the Forbidden Forest.

Students were never allowed in the Forbidden Forest, of course, but there had always been those rulebreakers—Harry very much included—who had gone in anyway. This year was different. The Forest had changed throughout the war, the Dark Magic that had been flowing through and around the castle had permeated through the Forest, and while Hogwarts had been repaired, there really was no way to clear the Forest. The students in general seemed to give the Forest a wide berth, not wanting to chance running into whatever mutated creatures lurked within.

So _who_ was walking straight for the Forest with such conviction?

Harry pulled out his wand from his robes and held it up to his glasses.

“ _Oculus extensus,”_ he muttered, and watched the image of the figure become much larger. He could still only see the student from the back, but it didn’t matter—he’d recognize that pale blond hair anywhere.

Malfoy.

“ _Finite,”_ he tapped his glasses again, and quickly pulled out his Cloak from within his robes, sweeping it around himself without a second thought.

He picked up his pace, careful to make as little noise as possible, as he tried to catch up to Malfoy. His heart rate picking up ever so slightly, it felt like flying a broom—familiar, ingrained, easy.

It was a line he had heard himself say in his head thousands of times. Malfoy was up to something.

Malfoy had been keeping his head down this year, working quietly and efficiently during classes and mostly keeping his mouth shut around the other students that had returned for the eighth year. Ron theorised that without Crabbe and Goyle acting as bodyguards, Malfoy couldn’t get away with his typical bullying. Hermione thought that the war had changed him.

Having gotten closer, Harry stayed a few feet behind Malfoy as he entered the Forest, not wanting to give himself away, and he breathed shallow and quiet as he watched and followed Malfoy through the trees.

Malfoy seemed to know where he was going, his wand held loosely in his right hand that hung by his side, and no hesitation in his steps. Harry tried to remember the path so that he could get back in case he get lost, but there were too many turns; left, left, right, left, right, left again, forward for a while, then another left. They stepped over fallen trunks and brambles and at one point the Cloak got caught on a thorn and very nearly got ripped right off of Harry, but he clutched it tight and nicked it off the thorn, keeping an eye on Malfoy to make sure he didn’t leave his sight.

Finally, Malfoy came to a stop, and Harry abruptly did the same, scared of accidentally running into him. They were surrounded by thick-trunked trees, tall and foreboding, blocking out nearly all light from the sky.

Malfoy held up his wand, and Harry clutched his tighter in his hand, suddenly worrying that Malfoy knew he was behind him.

But Malfoy only reached out and tapped his wand to the tree in front of him.

“ _Ingressus,”_ he murmured, and Harry had to try very hard to withhold a gasp.

The tree cracked open, splitting right down the middle and each side began to move away from each other, pale green grass taking up the space in between them. Harry watched in wonder until the patch of grass was about the size of a classroom, and perfectly circular in shape, and the halves of the tree stopped moving.

It was a clearing, a strangely colourful clearing in comparison to the darkness of the Forest around it, the bright green of the grass and the dots of yellow and purple in wildflowers across it. The sun shone down directly upon the clearing, as it had no large imposing tree branches blocking the sky. It looked like a spotlight was shining down, on this one perfect circle.

Harry stared, as Malfoy unfastened his cloak and elegantly draped it upon the grass, sitting down cross-legged on it, and taking his book bag off of his shoulder.

Harry had the time to briefly wonder what on earth Malfoy was doing here, before Malfoy spoke.

“Are you going to join me, Potter, or just stand there staring?”

Harry very nearly fell backwards into another thorned bush. Sheepishly, he yanked at the Cloak, pulling it off and further messing up his hair as he did so.

“How did you know I was there?”

“You breathe as loud as a hippogriff,” Malfoy said, still not looking up at Harry. “And I don’t know of anyone else at Hogwarts with an Invisibility Cloak.”

Clearly caught, Harry stuffed his Cloak back into his robes, watching as Malfoy opened his book bag and started searching for something.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, unable to help himself.

“Committing horrific and evil crimes,” Malfoy replied promptly, pulling out an apple from his bag with a victorious look in his eye.

“Er…” Harry shuffled on his feet, unaware what to say to that. He had been prepared for a variety of hexes and curses, but Malfoy was going off script.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin,” Malfoy rolled his eyes, and pulled more things out of his bag. Looking down, Harry saw what they were—a glass bottle of some sort of orange liquid, a wrapped sandwich, a small jar of olives.

“You’re…having lunch,” said Harry, dumbstruck.

Malfoy snorted, and bit into his apple, a drop of the juice lingering in the corner of his mouth before he licked it away.

“Well-spotted, Potter. You’ll make for an excellent Auror.”

“I—” Harry stuttered, at a loss for what to say.

“Oh, just sit down before you hurt yourself,” said Malfoy, scooting over on his cloak as if to make room.

For Harry. To sit. On Malfoy’s cloak.

Harry sat, making sure not to put his feet down on the cloak. A beat passed between them, the silence only broken by the sound of Malfoy biting into and chewing his apple.

Finally, Harry regained the ability to speak.

“Why are you having lunch in the Forbidden Forest?” he asked.

“Definitely for a nefarious purpose. It’s all a plot, Potter, I lured you here so that I could poison you with laced pumpkin juice.”

Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Seriously, Malfoy. How’d you even find this place?”

Malfoy’s face softened slightly, and he seemed to unclench, tension dissipating in his arms and shoulders.

“It’s an old fairy circle,” he said. “Not active anymore, which is why it appears to humans, but either they didn’t do a good job removing the traces of it, or something triggered it to reopen.”

Harry knew that the “something” Malfoy alluded to meant the Dark Magic that now inhabited the Forest. Looking around him at the sun shining down on the grass and flowers, Harry wasn’t sure if this was something Dark Magic could do.

“You just went around tapping trees on the hunch that loose magic might have triggered an old fairy ring to reopen?”

Malfoy gave him a dirty look.

“No, you dimwit. I found it by accident the first time. I just…stumbled into it. And then…the trees closed when I left, so I marked it. So that I could remember which one it was.”

“Oh,” Harry said. He didn’t know what to think. It was beautiful, the clearing, and Harry could see why Malfoy would enjoy his lunches out here. He just…had never really thought about Malfoy that way. As someone who…enjoyed picnics and the sun and nice flowers, like a normal person.

He looked over at Malfoy, who was taking a sip from his pumpkin juice. The sun made his pale skin glow, giving him a strangely ethereal look. The light danced in his hair, glints reflecting as his head moved. Harry felt something heavy echo inside of his chest. He felt some guilt at how he had assumed Malfoy had been doing something bad. It made sense, him coming here, trying to find a spot of light and beauty. They had all been surrounded by darkness for so long. With a jolt in his stomach, Harry remembered that Voldemort had been in Malfoy’s _house_. No wonder he wanted the sunshine.

“How often do you come down here?” Harry asked.

“Is this some sort of interrogation?” Malfoy frowned, pausing in closing the lid of his bottle.

“No, no,” Harry said, quickly, ignoring the voice in his head that reminded him that just minutes ago, he had thought Malfoy had been up to another scheme. “I just…I just thought maybe I could join you again. For lunch. Sometime. If you wanted.”

Malfoy stared at him, unblinking, until Harry started to squirm under the gaze of his grey eyes.

“You want to come have lunch with me?” he asked, sounding vaguely suspicious.

“Yes,” Harry confirmed. Malfoy’s tone only made him more sure.

“Why?”

Harry shrugged.

“Why not?”

Malfoy watched him for a moment more, before a smirk spread onto his face, a twinkle gleaming in his eye.

“Alright. It’s a date.”


End file.
